Tag: Bonjour Tristesse

Sunday afternoon

If it weren’t for the rain, I wouldn’t have remembered the incident.

Being just a kid, I was home-bound by torrential rain. No matter how hard I tried, the adults in the house would not let me go out and play. My tantrum perhaps lasted for hours with ending compromise: I got taken to see “the Hunchback of Notre Dame” played by Anthony Quinn.

Esmeralda and her plot-twisting escape.

I wish my life had been that of the hunchback i.e. just ring the bell when it’s time and stay in.

Even on rainy Sunday Afternoons.

No Esmeralda. No trouble. But troubles seem to find me out.

I ran out to the street, saw all sorts of things: burning monk in 1963, Tet 68 street battle, 1975 last chopper, 1979 Three Mile Island. A long way from a quiet home-bound Sunday Afternoon.

On one of the family’ trips, I was up in a Dalat villa, sneaking out the balcony for a smoke, cause I saw it on Bonjour Tristesse. I knew then as I know now the face of existential loneliness.

Jean Paul Belmondo, Johnny Holiday and Alain Delon.

Those larger-than-life figures of French cinema.

Than music of the 60’s arrived (the British Invasion caught a ride on the chopper to be in Saigon as well). I had imprints of “He ain’t heavy, he is my brother” piling on top of “Et Pourtant” by Charles Aznavour.

Those Sunday Afternoons. Home-bound. Taking it all in.

By the time I got to the States, I am a mix bag and a mix  package: French, Vietnamese and English all-in-one.

Then I caught on with Chicago’s “Saturday in the Park“, or America’s “Lonely People”.

Finally, the day the music dies. Lennon got shot in the park.

Princess Diana got car crashed (You live your life like a candle in the wind).

Maria Carey went on living “without you” since she “can’t give anymore”.

Later on, more tragedies piling on top of one another, with “tears in heaven” and “wake me when September ends”.

I like Torn. The sound is very contemporary and cool.

We are still eager for that next tune. Next hit.

After all, it’s only a Sunday Afternoon, homebound. In search of something to pass the time.

Kid at heart.

Look not for trouble. But troubles always manage to seek me out. Bonjour Tristesse.

Might as well getting used to the unusual. Whose life is “normal” anyway. It would be boring to tears, ringing the bell when it’s time. Not sure the guy was born that hunch a back, or it’s an occupational hazard.

Mua Saigon (rain on tin roof)

Out of hundreds, emerged one. Winner of the throne. Winner of brand simple. Vua Hung Vuong, Vietnam‘s first King. His campaign? Neither communication skill, nor combating skill. But culinary skill. Simple dishes yet full of meaning: square bean cake representing the Earth, round one the Moon.

Harmony without and symmetry within.

Bingo!

The throne is yours. May the gods bless your descendants. Expand and guard the territory now known as Vietnam.

Big and small, wave after wave.

Rain and tears.

Falling on tin roof and tile roof.

Musical- sounding and melodramatic.

Separation and reunion.

Hatred and healing, forgiveness and forgetfulness.

It’s easier to take revenge than to win the enemy over.

Whatever the motive, the results are the rewards.

Mua Saigon mua HaNoi.

Love those wet feet that stand deep in the mud. The agrarian culture.

Back bent over to harvest rice in the bowl.

Um. An di con. Eat so you can grow up and may your future be better than mine. Broken back and broken heart.

Go some place and don’t come back. How can I?

How do you expect me to turn my back to the buffalo in the field or the bean cake on the table?

Brand simple.

Square for Earth and round for Moon.

Incense for the altar and candle for the grave.

Noi chon nhau cat run (birth place and burial-place).

The apple cannot fall far from the tree.

You can take a boy out of Saigon but you can’t take Saigon out of the man.

District 1 to District 10, and any number in between.

Crooks and intelligentsia, fake and real (vang thau lan lon). Who cares!

Keep bragging. It’s your fate to be born here and die here, in whatever style you choose . The lucky ones went overseas. Are they “saved?” Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world, it ended when you said Goodbye.

Mua Saigon Mua Hanoi.

The rain keeps pounding on neighbors’ tin roof. And I feel jolted, by caffeine and endorphin, nicotine and nostalgia. It is so weird that I miss Saigon while already in it. Perhaps I miss what Saigon itself is missing: the longing for things past. Shared poverty and joy. Shared human fate. Bonjour Tristesse. Makes me teary. Makes me want to reach out and pull someone in my arms and say “it’s going to be OK”, you and I, fellow human being. After the rain the sky always clears up. Cry with me and for me, for now, rain and tears. No one will laugh at us. For everyone is doing the same but too ashmed to admit. Mua Saigon. You cannot understand it until you are in way deep.

Then came the rain

It rained on the book fair here in Saigon.

Word and water don’t mix.

But I must admit seeing young readers eager to browse anything and everything, even kissing the note books we handed out, warms my heart.

I can relate to why the Happiness Index listed top countries such as Costa Rica and Vietnam.

Money might not equate to happiness despite its buying power.

Except for things money can’t buy: loyalty, happiness, class, intellectual ability and natural talent in the arts. Yes, money can buy arts, but only commercial art.

We are nearing the Sunday evening gathering at my friend’s studio.

Not concert for Harrison, but for Long, our dear musician friend who had recently passed away.

Celebrating a life.  A pursuit of perfection. Of Art.

In my last conversation with him, I promised to live in full (as I always have).

A promise is a promise.

Long’s musician friends who still love him dearly, will have to perform early since they still have to make a living later that evening.

Books, music, and arts. We are here to make our marks in the world, to brand, to make it lasting and influential. To know and be known that we once existed.

Many held a low view of themselves. Others overshot their positions.

I know my friend well. He lived within his means, his range and his circle.

He left behind many people who are still endearing him.

And he had been one of the few with a smile that is hard to forget.

Thinking of Long, I associate a 7th grader with short-sleeves, playing bass guitar.

Time passing, but not dividing, lost but not forgotten.

I hope when I am gone, I can make a few dents like my friend.

Dents in people’s hearts, because they would be uncomfortable thinking of me. How the hell did he carry all those chips on his shoulders!.

I love Long because of who he was.

The rain has stopped. It served its unintended purpose: street washing. Now can my people go to the book fair!

All Cast

My neighbor got off his cast today. I congratulated him, and told him, me too,

had a broken arm after my first month of Kung Fu. “It’s itchy and hairy”.  I got a chuckle out of him (who would otherwise looked so mean).

A few minutes later, I walked past a man with only one arm. His left short-sleeve shirt flips in the wind. He must have just gone back from his morning walk.

I was warned! Keep it to yourself! There is misery and menace, determination and destruction in this world. Just as you thought you have seen it all.

Buon oi, Chao Mi. (Bonjour Tristesse).

The existential loneliness is just a base line. On top of that, we got heart-break, and war that left scars and perpetual prejudice (zero-sum game).

While Moore’s Law reflects on the doubling speed of chip processing capacity, we have human with broken limps and broken dreams, carry on with half-life capacity.

“Buon oi, yeu duong la the” (that’s what love is)

Yes, as human, we are witnessing convergence of bio-tech, information-tech and neuro-science (empathic civilization). But can we still feel? Our analog make-ups don’t evolve as  fast.  We obviously cling to stars from the past.

All cast.

Red Carpet at the Oscars still features Bo Derek (used to appear in 10) and Glenn Close (Big Chill).

Give me one more take.

All cast, all crew. Dream on.

All smoke and mirror. All Cloud. The jumpers (out of the Twin Towers).

Toward oblivion. Out of the ash, the phoenix shall rise.

Broken arm, but not broken dream.

All hairy and itchy, but healed and strengthened.

Stand up and fight on. One-arm man walks on by. Stirring up empathy in me.

Shame and Stigma

Making small talks on New Year‘s morning, I mentioned various distant relatives, among whom a handsome ping-pong playing cousin of mine.

I remembered him as 60’s looking, hair, glasses and short shorts.

He was later married with kids before got  sent to re-education camp.

While he was away, his wife had an affair and made him feel ashamed upon his return and reintegration to larger society.

Those external stresses, at first glance, must have driven him to suicide.

My hostess cousin overheard my conversation, rushed out of the kitchen  and said ” cousin T was gay!”

“He had been pressured to maintaining a modeled family against his wish.”

Mystery unveiled for me after all these years.

The stigma (of being gay at a time and in a place where it was unacceptable) was followed by shame (even his “modeled” family couldn’t hold waters).

The agony of shame and stigma must have eaten up the man.

If memory served me right, I , up until yesterday, couldn’t conceive his family as “spinners” of story.

His father showed my mom where to find housing and apply for a teaching job.

My birth certificate (showing the address) still bears witness to their kindness to relatives fleeing Southward during the partition (North-South).

In all appearances, with his father also a teacher, which used to be ranked first (Si, Nong, Cong, Thuong – Mandarin, Farmer, Factory worker, Merchant), and rest of family high achievers until the last shoe dropped.

I felt for cousin T.

Perhaps taking his own life was the only way.

If he had lived in this time, or emigrated to a certain State in the US, or EU,

he could have carried on happily.

He ended life to stay true to his nature. (as of this edit, the US Supreme Court is into its 3rd day hearing about gay marriage).

When Francoise Sagan released her bombshell publication  “Bonjour Tristesse“, a lot of young people committed suicide in France. Existential loneliness.

Our own Nguyen Anh Chin also composed his “Buon oi, ta xin chao mi” (Bonjour Tristesse) after a time living in France.

Every society finds ways to explain outliers and outcasts.

We put much spotlight on how many lives Bill Gates has saved (good for him), but we have yet done inventory of what’s in our closet. Instead, we ignore what we can’t explain, or doesn’t fit into the mold: a handicapped child, a gay cousin, an interracial nephew or an unmarried niece.

Society is judged by how well it protects its weakest link, not to convenient put on labels such as “dysfunctional”, or worse, “reject”.

With 7 Billion , the chance of outliers and outcasts will only increase. Consequently, the burden is  on us to overcome fear, to be a good Samaritan. When you do to the least of these, you have done unto me.

Where is  the “Bill Gates” in each of us? The good Samaritan who stands up to shame and social stigma? (Condom Contest Prize $100,000 from Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation). The funny thing about Social Proof (they all do it) is it changes just as quickly if given the right catalyst and back wind (in 10 years, public opinion in the US about gay marriage has flip-flopped).  Be that force of change. He ain’t heavy, he is my brother.

R.I.P. cousin T.